Spence ignored their banter, his expression steady. “Shoot, that’s right, Jasmine. Congrats. Trouble told me you’re going to make bank off that job.”
“We’ll see. If it all pans out, it could be life-changing.”
“Glad to hear some good news. We’re due,” Spence said—but the shadow in his eyes told me he didn’t believe our luck would last.
CHAPTER 21
JASMINE
Three mornings had passed since the meeting at the Whistle, but the tension it stirred hadn’t gone anywhere. The high from Paradise Key had dulled, replaced by questions Kai still wouldn’t answer.
Over coffee and the lingering scent of his cologne, I let him pull me into a slow, lazy kiss, hoping the heat between us might burn away the unease. Instead, the questions pressed harder against my lips than his mouth did, and when I asked one—just one—he froze.
It wasn’t even an accusation, just a soft, careful,What are you not telling me?But the shift in his eyes was instant—like a door slamming shut. His hands slid away from my hips, and the warmth between us drained into the morning light spilling across the kitchen.
“Not now,” he said, reaching for his mug.
Not now, not ever. That’s what it felt like.
I tried to smile it off, to tell myself that he couldn’t give me answers if there weren’t any. But the doubt settled hollow in mychest. He rinsed his cup, grabbed his keys, and pressed a quick kiss to my hair. It was the kind of kiss you give out of habit, not want.
“See you tonight,” he said, and then he was gone, leaving the bungalow quieter than I liked and me staring at the faint coffee ring on the counter like it held answers.
The silence stretched until the creak of the front steps pulled me out of my head. Faith’s voice carried through the screen door before she even knocked.
“Jasmine?” she called, the sound of her flip-flops slapping against the porch.
I blinked, smoothed my hair, and tried to arrange my face into something that wasn’tI might’ve just broken my boyfriend.
“Come on in,” I called back, trying to snap myself into artist mode. Faith was here for a painting for her mom. “I only have a couple to choose from at the moment.”
Faith stepped inside with a bright smile and a canvas tote slung over her shoulder, but her eyes were scanning the bungalow like she was on a mission. The morning light streamed through the French doors, catching on half-finished canvases stacked against the wall, making my little space feel more like a gallery than a cottage.
“Let me see your scraps,” she grinned.
I walked her straight to the corner where two canvases sat on easels. “Seascape or amateur turtle?”
“Amateur? Pfft.” She said, studying the turtle. “It’s great. But so is this.” She lifted the seascape off the easel, tilting it toward the light. “This one will remind her of Miami Beach.”
Her focus sharpened, quiet but intent, and I felt that familiar twist in my stomach—half dread, half thrill—waiting for judgment. Finally she nodded, satisfied. “This is good, Jasmine. Like… really good.”
I smiled, a little sheepish. “Thanks. I think they’re getting better each time.”
“Corinne told me that you’re making five larger ones for Paradise Key.”
“Yeah.” I gestured toward two big blank canvases leaned against the wall, their white expanse both intimidating and inviting. “About to start them actually.”
Faith grinned. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair and leave you to it.” She reached into her tote and pulled out a crisp $100 bill.
“That’s too much. In fact, why don’t you just take it as a gift from me.”
“Nice try. But no way. You deserve to be paid for your work. Besides, I can’t be the perfect daughter if the gift is coming from you.”
“She’d never know,” I teased, grinning.
She gave me a sly smile, forcing the bill into my hand. “Thank you.”
As I wrapped the painting in brown craft paper, she gave the turtle one last glance. “You should keep at these. I know you say sealife isn’t your thing, but… it could be.”
